Pen Pals V2
by PrincessofDarkness11
Summary: Hermione has agreed to participate in an anonymous penpal program and who but Draco could have been chosen as her partner? With plenty of drama, humor, intrigue, and double agent work, their lives are about to get much more interesting.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, its characters or anything affiliated with it. I make no profit of any kind from this story.

Author's Note: This is a rewrite. The original was written when I was much younger and was riddled with grammatical errors. And bad. Oh man, it was soooo bad! Especially compared to some of my newer works! I believe the original version was only compliant up to the fifth book, but I have chosen to incorporate the sixth. Not the seventh, though. I would prefer to keep the setting at Hogwarts, in their seventh year. It plays a rather large part in the plot. Not to mention the fact that Ron would get in the way! :) So without further ado… Pen Pals V.2!

A/N (cont'd): I have chosen to leave the original posted. I would hate to lose all of the wonderfully kind reviews I've gotten. I also thought it would be nice for anybody who wished to compare the two versions.

~I~

"So… you'll be writing to a complete stranger for the entire term?" said Harry, sounding as though the very idea was mad.

She rolled her eyes. "They're a student at Hogwarts from another house, not some random bloke halfway across the world who preys on young girls."

"How do you know they're in a different house?" asked Ron.

"I already told you. Professor McGonagal devised this program to encourage inter-house unity," she replied impatiently.

"And you agreed because…" said Ron, trailing off and looking at her expectantly.

Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples to stave off the impending headache. "_Because_, Ronald, as Head Girl I need to set a positive example for the younger students."

"But what if they turn out to be a supporter of- You-Know-Who?" said Ron worriedly.

"Don't you guys have something better to do?" she snapped, tired of their interrogation.

"We're only concerned about you," said Harry, smiling gently.

She nodded, knowing it was true yet finding it no less annoying. "I can handle myself, though. I wasn't made Head Girl for nothing, you know."

"Speaking of 'heads'…" stated Ron, pulling a face, "Can you believe they're letting _Malfoy_ back into school? And as Head Boy!" He scoffed. "If it were up to me, him _and_ Snape would be rotting in Azkaban…"

Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. Hard. "Ronald Weasley! You gave your mother your word that you would make an effort to be civil! And besides that, Dumbledore's pensieve made it abundantly clear that Snape was not acting of his own volition. The man had taken two Unbreakable Vows, for pity's sake!"

"What's Malfoy's excuse?" he muttered.

"He… hasn't said. But I'm sure-"

"Voldemort had his mum," interrupted Harry, "I'm not saying we should be his best mates or anything, but… I think I would have done the same as him."

Hermione nodded. "It took a lot of courage for the two of them to ask the Order for help. I believe only time will tell if they were sincere in their request."

Ron sighed heavily. "I still hate the bloody gits…"

"As do I," she stated, "Now I have a letter to write and then I'm going to bed. You guys should, too. We have a lot of shopping to do tomorrow."

She stood and walked up the stairs to the room she shared with Ginny, sitting down at the desk that was set beneath the window. She though briefly about what to write, tapping her quill against the parchment, before she dipped it into the ink and set about her task.

'_Dear Stranger,'_ she wrote.

She wrinkled her nose in distaste and shook her head, wiping the page clean with a quick spell.

'_Dear Pen Pal,'_

"Much better," she said, continuing.

'_I hope my letter finds you well. I must confess that I have never written to anybody anonymously before, so I fear I am a bit lost at the moment. I feel I should at least inform you that I am, in fact, a girl, thus saving us from any awkward misunderstandings in the future. As I am unsure of whether or not you will continue our correspondence, that is all I am willing to divulge for the moment. Although I truly hope that we can become friends. Write back at you earliest convenience.  
Sincerely,  
Fern  
P.S. Fern is a pseudonym. I suggest you use one, as well. And the owl's name is Artemis. Please be kind to her. She is exceedingly sensitive, even for an owl.'_

She sat back, satisfied with the final product. After folding it neatly, she placed it in the envelope McGonagal had given her- "This will allow your owls to know where the letters should be delivered while at the same time making them untraceable," she had said- and sent it off with Artemis. She was anxious to see if she would receive a reply.

Draco Malfoy strolled into his (excessively) large bedroom to see a dainty, white and gold barn owl perched on his bed next to his own large, grey owl. In its claw was a letter. One he had forgotten he would be receiving. He smirked, taking the envelope from her and opening it. After reading through it, he chuckled. Whoever this 'Fern' was, she was intelligent, of that much he was certain. He spread some treats out for the birds while he penned a response.

Once he had sent it with Mercutio, sealed in the same envelope, he lie back on his bed and focused on relaxing. It was, however, a futile attempt, for a moment later a loud slam echoed throughout the manor, signaling his father's return. He sighed, bracing himself against the inevitable onslaught of verbal and physical punishment. But it never came. He silently wondered why Lucius hadn't burst into the room and begun tearing into him for missing another meeting.

He stood, walking down to the parlor, where his parents were discussing something quietly. He cleared his throat, drawing their attention.

"Welcome back, Father," he said.

"Draco," said Lucius, "I trust you have a very good explanation for missing yet _another_ meeting. The Dark Lord was most displeased by your absence."

He kept his face impassive when he answered. "The Order still feels that I am not to be trusted. They are keeping a close watch on me. I thought Severus would have explained all of this."

Lucius scowled. "He was not present, either."

Meaning that all of the Dark Lords _'displeasure'_ was focused on him alone.

"They must be watching him, as well. With the old man gone, there are no bleeding hearts to whom we may appeal. Although Potter is playing into our hands rather nicely. I never thought he would fall so quickly for my pathetic sob-story," said Draco, chuckling darkly, "It won't be long before he's completely accepted me into his little misfit gang."

"You sound as though you have a plan," said Lucius.

"I do. And it is fail-proof, I assure you," he replied.

Lucius smirked. "The Dark Lord will be glad to hear this. For now, the information you are passing to him should be sufficient. However, his patience is not infinite."

"Understood. But imagine how it will be when a Malfoy hands him Potter in the flesh," said Draco, schooling his expression into one of arrogance, "Our family will receive honors that others have only dreamt of."

He did not miss the pain in his mother's eyes. Or the pride in his father's.

"If you will excuse me, I must finish getting ready for the day. I have agreed to meet Pansy and Blaise in Diagon Alley in an hour," he said, waiting for their nods of dismissal and exiting the room.

"Hermione…" whined Ron, covering his head with the blankets, "Come _on_! Five more minutes! That's all I'm asking!"

She tore the blanket off of him, tossing it into the hallway. "That's what you said twenty minutes ago! It isn't my fault that you stayed up so late. Now get up! You have five minutes to be dressed and downstairs or I won't be nice and let you have breakfast."

He sat up quickly and glared at her. "That's just cruel…"

"Call it whatever you want," she said, smirking, "But your time is slowly ticking away."

She left the room as he scrambled out of bed, cursing under his breath about 'bloody tyrant women'. She chuckled to herself, thinking that he really should know better after so many years with her. Harry certainly knew. He was already dressed and at the table.

True to his stomach, Ron was in the kitchen in less than three minutes, making Hermione grin. He could be so predictable. It was sometimes hard to believe that he was such a brilliant strategist. They left as soon as he finished eating, apparating to Diagon Alley and heading to Flourish and Blotts first.

"Why'd we have to do this today?" griped Ron when they left the store laden with books.

"We only have two days before we leave for school," she replied, "Is this not 'last-minute' enough for you?"

This silenced him rather effectively and for that she was glad. She loved Ron, she truly did- he was like a brother to her- but she occasionally felt a strong urge to kick the thick-headed dolt.

"Where to next, Commander?" said Harry, joking saluting her.

She smiled at him. "We should probably-"

"Is that the new model Quidditch gear?" exclaimed Ron excitedly, rushing to the Quidditch supply store, "Harry! You've gotta this stuff!"

Harry looked at her pleadingly and she sighed. "Fine. I need to pick up some things that neither of you would be interested in anyway. Just… meet me at the apothecary in an hour, okay? _One hour_."

He nodded, speeding after the redhead.

She went next door to stock up on stationary, ink, and quills, figuring she'd be using more than usual, before making her way to Obscurus Books. She was hoping to find a few tomes that she doubted were carried at Flourish and Blotts. In fact, she'd be lucky if she didn't end up in Knockturn Alley.

When she entered the store, she was greeted by a small man in bright violet robes and small, lavender tinted spectacles. "May I help you find something, my dear?"

She handed him her list without a word, wondering what alternate universe he had crawled out of.

He clicked his tongue as he walked away, returning moments later with three of the four books she needed. "An odd assortment of literature for such a pretty young girl. Now… 'Bewitching the Written Word'… that's normal enough. But 'Defense is Offense: A Wizard's Guide to Winning a War'? '1,000 Surprisingly Lethal Spells, Charms, and Enchantments'?"

She grinning, paying the man. "A bit of light reading. About the fourth book…"

He shook his head solemnly. "You won't find that in any respectable store. 'The Darkest Dark Arts' isn't exactly a commonplace item. And it is most definitely _not_ something I would recommend for children."

She scowled at him, snatching her parcels from the counter. "I'm no child, sir, and in case it has escaped your notice, we _are_ in the midst of a war. How are we to win if we do not fully understand our enemy? Now if you will excuse me, I have a bit more shopping to do."

"Wait! Miss, wait!" he called, stopping her just outside the door, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. But… these are troubled times and I have to be careful about the people to whom I entrust certain knowledge."

She gave him a puzzled look. "I understand your caution but what…?"

He handed her a slip of paper with only an address scrawled across it. Number 17, Knockturn Alley. "My- friend runs this shop. It appears to be your average dark artifact emporium, however- well, all is not as it seems."

"What is your name, sir?" she asked shrewdly.

"Names are unimportant," he said, "Just know that the phoenix has more friends than you know, Miss Granger."

Before she could even begin to form a response in her mind, he was gone, leaving her with too many questions and not enough answers. If he knew about the Order of the Phoenix, he was probably one of the good guys. Perhaps he was an old acquaintance of Dumbledore's? She looked at the address he had given her. Should she go? Was it a trap? They did desperately need that book, but was it worth the risk?

As she continued to stare at the paper, her mind traveling in circles around these questions, a shadow fell over her. "You're not really considering going _there_, are you?"

She jumped and whipped around to glare at her nosey new companion. "Malfoy! You shouldn't sneak up on people… and don't read over my shoulder! It's quite rude."

"I didn't sneak anywhere," he said, "You were so lost in your own head you wouldn't have noticed if a bird decided to nest in your hair."

She narrowed her eyes. "What? No snide remark about how it looks like one already has?"

He shrugged. "It doesn't. Your hair looks rather nice today, actually."

She blinked stupidly. Had Malfoy just complimented her? True, over the last two years it had gradually become less wild, falling now in gentle waves, but… She shook herself from her thoughts. "You still shouldn't read over people's shoulders."

"And _you_ shouldn't wander into Knockturn Alley by yourself," he retorted.

"If you're that worried about me, why don't you come along?" She stuffed the paper into her jeans pocket and turned on her heel, intending to storm away from him.

"Alright. I will," he said, falling into step beside her.

"Hermione could have kicked herself! She hadn't thought he would take the offer seriously, let alone accept it. It was bad enough that she would be seen in that place and adding Draco Malfoy to the mix was a recipe for bad publicity. _'Rita Skeeter would be _so_ thrilled…'_ she thought wryly.

"Why are you going to that shop anyway? It doesn't seem like your kind of place," he said.

"I'm looking for a book," she replied. The answer sounded innocent enough. Let him draw his own conclusions.

"They don't sell books," he stated, and he clearly believed she was lying about her intentions.

She turned around and forgot the damned book, but the strange man's words rang in her head. _All is not as it seems._ "I'll just have a look for myself."

He sighed. "This is a very bad idea."

"You don't have to come," she said, "It's really none of your concern in the first place, so I don't see why you're following me."

"Following you?" he said, arching one perfect eyebrow at her, "You offered. And… just trust me. Knockturn Alley is not a place for young girls to travel alone."

"You would know, I suppose," she said casually, though the words still stung if the way he winced was any indication. She fought the sudden impulse to apologize.

"Who recommended that shop to you?" he asked after a moment of tense silence.

"A shopkeeper at Obscurus Books," she replied.

"What was their name?" he said.

She chuckled nervously. "He didn't exactly say."

"He didn't exactly say?" he repeated slowly, "Are you daft? Did that not send up any warning flags in that crowded brain of yours? Do you even realize that this could be- and probably _is_- a trap?"

"Of course I've though of all that," she snapped, "But this is more important. I _need_ this book and this may be the only place I can get it!"

He shook his head and tried not to think too hard about what book a girl like Hermione Granger 'needed' that could only be found _there_. "Well…" he said as they turned onto Knockturn Alley, "Last chance to change your mind."

She set her mouth in a determined line and continued forward. Luckily, there were few people out and about at that particular time of day. That ones that were, however, were frightening! One man tried to sell her his body and she didn't even want to know what he meant by that, though she believed she had an idea.

They finally came to Number 17 and she steeled herself before entering. Her first impression was that it didn't seem too terrible. It was brightly lit, clean and organized… Not at all what she had expected. She had very nearly relaxed when a strong hand gripped her shoulder and spun her around.

"Whad'ya want here, girlie?"

The man's voice was deep and rough, but it was nothing compared to his appearance. She imagined if he stood straight he would be a formidable height. As it was, he walked hunched over and supported himself with a gnarled piece of wood that barely passed as a cane. He ambled away from her to the register, where the light played on the dark auburn in his hair, which she thought might look good on him were it not matted and tangled and covered in- was that _dust_? His face was handsome enough if one could ignore the long scar that stretched down the left side, from eyebrow to jaw, and had permanently closed his eye. The remaining eye was a piercing dark blue and… was staring right at her, waiting for an answer. Right.

"I'm looking for a book," she said quickly.

"Don't sell no books," the man said, "Now git outta here. You. Boy!" He pointed at Draco with one shaking hand. "This ain't a place to bring your girl!"

Before he could defend himself- and vehemently deny Granger being 'his girl'- Hermione stepped forward. "Please, sir. I was referred to this shop by a friend of yours."

He made a terrifying noise in his throat. "What friend? Haven't got any blasted friends." He circled back around to her, his cane thudding steadily against the floor in an eerie way. "You havin' one over on me, _girlie_?"

"No! I- I don't know his name, but he seemed fond of the color purple," she stuttered, "And he gave me this." She handed him the paper.

To her immense surprise, the man smiled softly. "Ah… that friend. Right, then. Follow me."

"Where-?" started Draco.

"Don't ask questions, boy!" he snarled. He began rearranging seven glass globes that sat on one of the sturdy wooden shelves, muttering something that sounded a bit like poetry, until a door appeared to their right. "Well? Go on!"

They exchanged a look, but obeyed, each hoping that these would not be the last moment in their young lives. When they crossed the threshold, Hermione gasped at the overwhelming quantity of rare and valuable books they found themselves surrounded by. "What _is_ this place?"

"Allow me to explain," said the grisly man, though his voice had lost its rough edge, "The person you spoke with earlier is my long time friend- and partner in crime- Toby Hawthorn. He and I own both Obscurus Books and this establishment. We maintain this shop's cover as a vendor of dark artifacts so that the information contained in this room does not pass to the wrong hands. This is the only way that we know to keep the most important weapon of them all, the weapon that can win or lose a war, away from those who would abuse it. I speak, of course, of knowledge." As he said this, he slowly transformed before their eyes, abandoning the cane and straightening his spine with a long stretch. With a whispered word his hair was clean and smooth, falling gently to his shoulders. He must have noticed Hermione's confusion, because his face twisted into a bitter smile. "The scar is no effect, Miss Granger. Yes… I know of you, who doesn't? This scar was given to me by the Dark Lord himself. And trust me… it is better that the eye cannot open. You would not want to see what had become of it."

Draco grimaced. To think that he had almost been forced into that monster's service.

"Before we continue, I feel I should ask," the man said, addressing Hermione, "Can he be trusted?"

She hesitated, unsure of what to say. Why did life have to be so complicated? Why couldn't everything just be black or white, good or bad? She glanced at the blonde and instantly knew the answer. There was a look of such pain and regret, sadness and resignation on his face that there could be only one answer. "Yes, I believe he can."

Draco was shocked speechless. They were only words, but she said them with so much conviction and faith that they carried as much force as a physical slap. He couldn't remember a single time in his life when he had felt as humbled as he did at this moment.

"Very well. My name is Donovan Dieter," he said, smiling brightly, "Welcome to my shop."

"Thank you, sir," said Hermione, "I'm grateful for this opportunity."

"So what are you looking for today?" asked Donovan mildly.

"I'm seeking a book titled 'The Darkest Dark Arts' and I think you may be my last hope," she replied.

Draco choked on his breath. "You want _what_?" he exclaimed disbelievingly, "That's the darkest book to have ever been printed! You must be mad to look for such a book! That is not something that any human should possess and especially not someone who is fighting for the light!"

"Young Malfoy makes a valid point," stated Donovan, his expression now hard as stone, "Even if I did have this book, why would I give it to you?"

"You have to!" said Hermione, panicking as she watched their only chance slipping away, "Please just hear me out. I believe that Voldemort read that very book when he was younger and the key to destroying him may lie within its pages! If we want to have any possibility of winning against him, I need that book!"

Donovan sighed, but smiled at her. "I have no choice then, do I?" He waved his wand once and a thick tome seemed to appear out of thin air. He handed it to her. "Now you shrink that until you get it home and then you keep it somewhere secure. Do you understand me?"

She nodded, following his instructions immediately and placing it in her pocket. "How much…?"

He shook his head. "No charge. Please give Mr. Potter my regards."

"I will," she said, "Thank you, Mr. Dieter."

"Call me Donovan, please, or Don," he replied, grabbing his cane and ushering them out of the room even as he resumed his role as a crazy old shopkeeper, "Let's make this believable, shall we? Look scared, Miss Granger."

She didn't have to wait long to find out the meaning of his words as a split second later he glared and shoved them quite hard out the door. "I toldja I ain't sellin' to no kids!" he growled loudly, "Git outta here, ya damned brats!" With that he hobbled back inside, slamming the door behind him.

Hermione was sure she'd had no problems appearing fearful. She picked herself up off the street with Draco's help and stared dumbly after the man. "He… threw us out," she said, trying to ignore the laughter around them.

"Yes and he's going to regret it once he finds out who my _father_ is," said Draco stridently, sounding every bit like the spoiled, petulant boy she remembered him as.

The laughter abruptly ceased.

She looked at him sharply, but he only quirked an eyebrow at her. _'Right. Believable. How do girls usually act around him?'_ "Oh Draco…" she said, imitating the brainless, simpering girls she'd seen at school, "You won't do anything too terrible to him, will you?"

He smirked. "Not this time. He just needs a reminder to be more courteous in the future. For now we shall take our business elsewhere."

She followed him down the street, all too aware of the many sets of eyes following them. When they finally reached Diagon Alley, she heaved a sigh of relief, letting out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"Thank you for accompanying me," she said, "I appreciate it."

"It was no problem," he replied, "But you should know that your reputation is ruined."

"For now," she said, patting her pocket where the book rested, "They'll soon forget. You won't tell anybody about…"

"You have my word," he said succinctly.

She gave him a shrewd look. "Just so you know, this doesn't make us friends."

"Of course not," he drawled.

"I still don't like you," she stated firmly.

"I don't much care for you either, to tell you the truth," he said, shrugging.

She nodded resolutely and he wondered just who she was trying to convince. She turned and made to leave, then paused and looked over her shoulder at him. "But I meant what I said before. About trusting you."

And he was left alone, gaping like an idiot in the middle of the road, stunned beyond words for the second time that day.

When Hermione returned from shopping that day with Ron and Harry, there was an owl waiting in her room. She couldn't contain her excitement as she rushed in and took the familiar envelope from its claw and sat down, stroking the bird affectionately.

"Thank goodness you're back," said Ginny when she emerged from the bathroom, "He's been here for nearly an hour. Wouldn't give that bloody letter up to anybody and I even tried bribes. You probably shouldn't give him any more treats."

Hermione laughed. "That's because this letter is private. It's from my anonymous pen-pal."

"I heard about that," said Ginny, joining her on the bed, "Collin's doing it, too. Personally, I don't get the appeal. Seems a little dodgy to me, writing to somebody you don't even know."

"You sound just like your brother," said Hermione, "Whoever it is, they go to Hogwarts so odds are that I've seen them at least once."

Ginny grinned. "I suppose I'll leave you to it, then."

"You don't have to go," said Hermione when the red-headed girl stood.

"It's fine. I'm just going to find Harry," said Ginny, smirking.

"Still trying to convince him that you're in no more mortal danger as his girlfriend than you are as his friend?" she asked.

"You know how stubborn us Weasleys are," said Ginny, exiting the room.

She turned back to the letter and smiled, opening it deftly and reading:

'_Fern,  
I had forgotten that that I agreed to participate in this program until I received your letter. I admit that upon reading it I was relieved that you sounded so intelligent. I would hate to have been forced to correspond with some total dunderhead. Thank you for telling me your gender, though I doubt I would ever say anything vulgar enough to offend you. My standards of conversation are much higher than that. If you have not already guessed, I am male and I won't apologize for it.'_

She laughed at that.

'_I have also never written to somebody with whom I am not familiar so I'm afraid that I can't offer any guidance in that aspect. However, I do feel as though we should establish some ground rules. First of all, no names. Of anybody. Revealing those that we associate with could too easily reveal our identities. Secondly, we must each promise complete confidentiality. I don't know exactly what will come of this, but there may come a time when we are comfortable enough with one another to disclose certain information or facts about ourselves that we do not wish for the entire school to know. The third rule should be that, once we return to Hogwarts, we do not let this communication interfere with our studies. I, for one, have high aspirations once I graduate. We can add more rules as the need arises, if the need does, indeed, arise.  
Now that is out of the way, I have to ask: Why Fern? Of all the fake names you could have chosen, why did you pick one that sounds so bland? I will expect an answer in your next missive, as well as a bit more information about yourself. If you acquiesce to this request, perhaps I will return the favor.  
Signed,  
Romeo  
P.S. My feathered friend's name is Mercutio. He really seemed to like Artemis. We should agree right now that we will not try to identify each other by our owls.'_

She shook her head lightly. "I will expect an answer?" she said aloud, moving to desk to reply, "Awfully full of himself, isn't he?"

'_Romeo,  
Really? __**Romeo**__? And Mercutio? Somebody either enjoys his Shakespeare or thinks very highly of himself. I think those rules will work out marvelously and I solemnly swear to not seek you using your owl. I also have a lot of things I want to accomplish after I graduate and I would never do anything to compromise my- or anybody else's- studies. If you don't mind my asking, what are you planning to do when you've finished with Hogwarts?  
In answer to your question- which, by the way, was phrased rather impertinently- I chose Fern because of the symbolism. Ferns are often associated with strength, curiosity, confidence, and shelter or protection. My strength and thirst for knowledge are two of my best qualities, confidence is something that I wish I had more of, and I have a powerful desire to shelter and protect those I care about. I think that covers both of your requests pretty efficiently. Now you had __**better**__ return the favor. And I see what you mean about Mercutio and Artemis. He's been here this whole time and hasn't moved from her side. Maybe they're in love. Write back soon!  
Fern'_

She sent it with Artemis and as soon as she took off, Mercutio followed, making Hermione smile. Love was such a strange and beautiful thing…

~I~

First chapter rewrite DONE! Wow… That ended up a LOT longer than the original chapter one. It went from 500 to almost 5,000 words! Big difference, don't you think? I hope you enjoyed just as much, if not more, than the last time! Reviews are always appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own it and I make no profit. That's all I'm legally required to say, right? *Lawyer nods* Good. Now maybe we can get on with the fun part!

Author's Note: This chapter was not in the original version at all! I don't know if you original readers are going to like that or hate it, but… oh well! I think it all seems much more believable now! They're only slightly- VERY SLIGHTLY- out of character! Yayness!

~II~

"Draco! You will look at me when I talk to you!"

"Yes, Father," said Draco obediently, meeting the man's steely gaze. _'Never mind the fact that this is the first thing you've said to me all damned day.'_

"Draco… I can understand the need to prove yourself," said Lucius, "Especially after failing your very first assignment. However, this may be too much for you to handle."

"Father, I-"

"_Think_ about this, Draco. If you couldn't even kill one feeble old man how can you hope to fool the Order? How is it that you're going to capture Potter?" asked Lucius sternly.

Draco repressed a sigh. "I told you, Father. I have a plan."

"But what _is_ this plan of yours? And when can you possibly hope to employ it?" the man said skeptically, "You will never make it past his precious friends or get him alone. You can't even beat that mudblood girl on paper, so you obviously have no chance in a duel."

'_That word… That bloody stupid word has caused so much trouble in my life. This entire silly war started because of an arcane prejudice and __**that word**__…'_ He contained his anger and replied as calmly as he could. "I won't have to duel anybody. And I'll have you know, _Father_, that I have already set my plan into motion."

Lucius struck him across the face, sending him sprawling to the floor. "You would do well to remember who you are speaking to. I will not always be so lenient with you."

'_Lenient my ass…'_ thought Draco bitterly, spitting blood onto the floor and earning himself a kick in the side. His mother turned her face away and he cursed her for the coward that she was.

"Malfoys do not spit, Draco," snapped Lucius and he scowled, "Get up, boy. You look entirely undignified."

'_Who the hell __**put**__ me down here?'_ he screamed in his mind as he stood.

"Now how exactly has your plan begun so soon? You are not even back in school yet," asked Lucius and he was amazed at how quickly his father could go back to being a simple, bored aristocrat.

"Have you seen The Daily Prophet today?" he said, waiting for the man to nod, "_That_ is how. I very kindly escorted her around Knockturn Alley- for her own protection, naturally- and was the perfect companion. She was looking for something to help her 'unravel the mysteries of the dark arts' or some such utter nonsense. I tried to tell her that no shop would sell to the likes of her, but Granger-"

"The mudblood girl?" interrupted Lucius.

Draco winced before he could stop himself, realizing his mistake just a second too late. The head of his father's cane connected with his temple and his vision exploded into stars as he collapsed. He was becoming quite familiar with that particular spot on the floor.

"I'm sorry," sneered Lucius, "Do you not like that word?"

He couldn't find the breath necessary for speaking so he said nothing.

"I was only calling her what she is," said Lucius, pulling his wand out of the cane, "And she _is_ a mudblood, isn't she Draco?"

Still, he could say nothing. If only his head would stop throbbing and spinning so…

"Answer me when I ask you a question, boy! _Crucio_!" exclaimed Lucius, uttering the word that Draco had been dreading since he was summoned into the room.

He screamed in agony as his nerve endings were assaulted by the white-hot pain that had grown to be so customary in that house. He squeezed his eyes shut as his body convulsed and contorted, his throat closing and cutting off both his voice and his air.

"Say the word, Draco, and the pain will go away," said Lucius almost gently, "Call her what she truly is and I will be more than happy to stop."

"Mud… blood…" he choked, and the sheer amount of force it took to utter that single word nearly knocked him clean out.

The curse lifted and Lucius smiled at him as he lie there, shuddering. "There now. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

He rolled over just in time to retch violently.

Lucius scowled in disgust. "How uncouth." He sighed and called a House Elf. "Barley, young Draco requires the remainder of the day to rest peacefully. Please take him to the sun room."

"Yes, Master Malfoy, sir. Right away, Master Malfoy," said the tiny elf.

"After you have finished with him, send one of the others up to clean this mess," the man ordered.

"Yes, Master Malfoy," said Barley, bowing low before grabbing hold of Draco's arm and apparating them into the 'sun room'.

Draco would have scoffed if any part of him had been working correctly. They called it the sun room… It was anything _but_. The 'sun room' was a small space barely large enough for one person. There was a single, miniscule window parallel to the door that didn't allow enough light to properly see by. The walls and floor were made of rough stone and covered in dust and he could only guess what else. The elves were forbidden to clean it. There were absolutely no heating or cooling charms in the area so the air was as hot and sticky as it was outside. Perhaps even more so.

Barley propped him up against the wall and he groaned, his muscles protesting excruciatingly. The elf left a moment later without a word, which was not so unusual. They were no strangers to the situation, after all. There were times when he would be in the 'sun room' for days on end. Luckily, he would be leaving for Hogwarts the day after next, or he suspected this would be one such time.

He did not know when he lost consciousness, but when he woke there was no light in the tiny room at all. He sat a bit straighter, stretching his arms, legs, and back in spite of the residual sting. He had been taken there around midday so he knew he had slept- if one could call it sleep- for quite some time.

He sighed heavily. He shouldn't have come home. He could have easily lied and said they wouldn't let him. Sure, the atmosphere at Headquarters was tense, but at least he didn't have to worry about this kind of thing happening. However, his mother had sounded so sad, so lonely…

He loved his mother as much as any son ever could and he knew his mother loved him, as well. But he also hated her. Why did she allow Lucius to get away with doing whatever he wanted? Why couldn't she stand up to him? Wasn't it a mother's job to protect her child? Although… if he thought about it, that was supposed to be a father's job, too.

And it wasn't like he had any room to talk. It wasn't like _he_ had ever stood up to the man, ever defended himself. He had never so much as openly disagreed with him. It was only 'Yes, Father. Yes, Father. Yes, Father'. And wasn't he just the perfect son, the pinnacle of everything a Malfoy should be? He had been trained and conditioned to follow his father's every order since birth. Well… he had certainly done a spectacular job of _that_ over the years.

He sometimes wondered if his life would be different had Potter accepted his friendship. Or if he had gone to Dumbledore when he was being pressured to take the Mark. Would he still be locked in this tiny room? Would he still be playing double-agent in the Dark Lord's inner circle? Or would he already be free of this torture? Perhaps living a quiet, comfortable life with his godfather, with _real_ friends who cared about him. He wouldn't have the wealth he had now, but he may have had a chance to be happy and for that he would gladly give up his name, his money, and all of the influence and power that came with them.

It was wishful thinking, he knew. Pure, idealistic fantasy. He would never have happiness. Not as long as the Dark Lord still breathed… as long as his father still breathed.

If he was stronger, if he was braver, if he was smarter, maybe he could have…

His mind drifted to Hermione Granger. What did she know? The key to destroying the Dark Lord was in that book. Wasn't that was she had said? The key to destroying that monster… Could it really be that simple? She had seemed awfully sure of herself. Could they actually be that close? And Potter… Could he actually do it? Kill the Dark Lord and save them all? Save _him_?

Was he even worth saving?

"_I meant what I said before. About trusting you."_

It was still surprising to him that she could say those words and mean them. If she could see him now, what would she think? What would Potter or Weasley think? Would they pity him? Call him a coward? Would they laugh? He wouldn't blame them if they did.

Maybe he had earned this. Maybe all of the pain he had been subjected to in the years since the Dark Lord's resurrection had been the fates' way of punishing him. One minute of the Cruciatus Curse for every cutting insult, every hurtful rumor, every fight he'd started. One blow for every sabotaged potion, every person he'd gotten into trouble who hadn't warranted it. One scar to tarnish his flawless skin for every time he had spoken that _word_.

He'd spend the rest of his life atoning for all of the terrible things he had done, thanking the heavens above for the second chance he didn't deserve.

When oblivion embraced him once more, he welcomed it as a reprieve from his own thoughts, slipping into blissful, empty, dreamless darkness. He didn't wake again until the following evening, when the scrape of the heavy metal door on stone roused him. His father stood before him, smirking cruelly.

"Have you thought about your actions?"

Draco nodded, resuming his role as the perfect son and standing gracefully on legs that wanted no part in moving or supporting him. Even so, he met his father's eyes determinedly, schooling his expression into one of a proper mixture of shame and arrogance. "I apologize, Father. I don't know what got into me. Probably a side-effect of spending time with a mudblood." _'Please forgive me…'_

"I'm glad that you have come to your senses, Draco," said Lucius, "Now get yourself cleaned up. You look disgraceful."

He waited until Lucius departed to let his legs give out. He called a House Elf to take him to his room and help him bathe. Winny always helped him after his times in the 'sun room' and she was as kind and gentle as ever. She dressed him in clean clothes and tucked him into bed, presenting him with a tray of food. A thick chicken broth with noodles, freshly baked bread, plain yogurt and fruit, and water. The usual.

Once he had eaten as much as she believed appropriate, she handed him four potions. One to heal the bruises and minor cuts, one to relieve the pain, one to replenish his strength, and a dreamless sleep. Before he took the final one, he asked if he had gotten any mail. She pointed to his desk, where Mercutio sat next to a familiar white and gold barn owl. Artemis flew over to him when he called her, depositing a single envelope in his lap before rejoining Mercutio.

"How long has she been waiting here?" he asked.

"Since last night," replied Winny, speaking informally as he had asked her to do when they were in private, "She would not allow anybody else to take that letter. Winny has taken good care of her, though."

"Thank you, Winny. If it's okay with you, I'll just reply to this letter and then go to sleep," he said.

She nodded, handing him his wand. "Pleasant dreams, Master Draco."

He smiled as she disappeared with the tray and summoned his lap table and writing supplies. He read and reread the letter many times, chuckling to himself at the first line, before responding.

'_Fern,  
I see now. Fern is a lovely choice. I also enjoy learning new things, though I often wish I were a stronger person. I suppose most people would say I'm vain and that's the reason I chose that name, but I truly do love Shakespeare's works. Especially the story of Romeo and Juliet. I can really identify with those characters. I know how it feels to be controlled by your family and friends and their ideals, how it is to be poisoned against one person or a group of people. To feel trapped in your own life. I just hope my story has a happier ending.  
When I graduate I want to become a Healer, to help people. I would also like to do some independent research of Muggle medicine and its possible applications in potions, particularly in the area of neural damage caused by over-exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. But I could never tell my pure-blood elitist parents this. They wouldn't understand. I sincerely hope that you're not like them. Somehow I don't think you are.  
I'm sorry that Artemis was gone for such a long time and for the delay of my reply. I was indisposed and unable to receive mail for the last couple of days. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?  
Romeo'_

It wasn't lost on him that Artemis waited for Mercutio to leave before taking off. _'Love, huh?'_ he thought, drinking the dreamless sleep potion and settling back against the pillows, _'Must be nice…'_

~II~

Whew! This chapter was immensely fun to write. Does that make me a demented person? I don't mean that I was laughing as I described the pain of the Cruciatus Curse… just that it was fun to step into Draco's mind and give people a glimpse into his life. I'm quite pleased with how it turned out, but what are your opinions? Until next time… Adieu!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own the Potterverse. I just play in it from time to time… but I don't get paid for it. Nope… nobody pays you to entertain your own perverse fantasies… And a bloody shame, that is.

Author's Note: I don't know where all of this inspiration is coming from, but hey… I'm just going to roll with it. I suppose I could probably thank the band Within Temptation. I've been listening to all of their songs on a constant loop as I write this. Hooray for the eternal inspiration fountain that is Within Temptation! Lol.

~III~

"Hermione, let's go! We need to get to the station!" called Ron from the bottom of the stairs.

She sighed, throwing her hair up into a high, sporty pony-tail and blowing her fringey bangs out of her eyes. Of all days to sleep in… She hadn't even had time to read her letter! She rushed down to the living room, stowing the letter away in her bag to avoid questions, and followed them out the door.

Later, when she was sitting in a compartment with Harry and Ron, she pulled the letter out. It had taken longer this time… would this be a polite declaration of his desire to stop writing to her? Had she offended him? She shook herself mentally. He had probably been busy. His entire life did not revolve around their communication. She opened it, reading it thoroughly. And then she read it again. And once more, just to make sure she wasn't mistaken.

He sounded so… despondent. Her heart clenched at the thought of somebody living such a life. _"I just hope my story has a happier ending."_ That one sentence spoke volumes. She sensed the resignation and defeat in those words even through the letter and knew he didn't believe it would. The phrase 'pure-blood elitist parents' caught her attention again and she narrowed her eyes. They sounded like Death Eaters, or at least the sort of people who supported Voldemort's cause. Thankfully, he didn't seem to share their sentiment.

However, it was the last paragraph that worried her the most. What could make somebody so unwell that they could not receive their post for two days? With the life she imagined he must have led, she didn't even want to think about it. And she wouldn't ask. Not about his parents or the quality of his home life… nothing. If he wanted her to know, he would tell her when he was comfortable.

Harry made to grab the paper from her, but she moved it beyond his reach just in time. She folded it carefully, placing it back in the envelope and then in her bag. "Don't even think about it," she scolded, "These letters are _private_."

"Are they from _Vicky_ then?" asked Ron, making ridiculous kissing noises at her.

"No, they are not. For your information, I haven't heard from Viktor in quite some time," said Hermione haughtily, "They are from my pen pal, and no I am not telling you anything he's written."

"But you don't even know the bloke!" he exclaimed, "Who cares if you tell us what he says?"

"I promised him I wouldn't tell," she replied, "And I plan to keep that promise."

"Fine," huffed Ron, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting rather dramatically.

She laughed and was about to tease him for being childish when the compartment door slid open, revealing Draco Malfoy. They only stared at each other for several long moments, not knowing what else to do. Nobody spoke, nobody moved… they hardly even breathed.

"Er… sorry," said Draco, abruptly turning and shutting the door.

"What was that all about?" said Harry bemusedly, "Do you reckon he's not feeling well?"

"What the hell was he apologizing for?" said Hermione as she stood and soared after him.

"I can't believe he was apologizing at all," said Ron.

She caught up with him in the next train car, spinning him around to face her. "What was that?"

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "What was what?"

"That! Back there! What exactly were you apologizing for? Were you sorry because you came into our compartment or for interrupting our conversation? Or _maybe_ for making our lives hell up until now?" she whispered, trying valiantly not to draw attention to them. Her efforts were wasted, though, as a handful of students were already gathering around them.

"I just came to tell you-"

"Not here. Come with me," she said, pulling him to the back of the train where the large cargo was kept, "Now, how can you expect to be forgiven so easily? One muttered apology couldn't possibly make up for six years of torture!"

"But I-"

"You've been awful to Harry and Ron, you've made fun of my hair, my teeth… everything!" she continued, not even hearing him, "And I can't count the number of times you've called me a mud-"

Draco grabbed her by the front of her shirt and pulled her into a hard, crushing kiss, his other hand going up to the back of her neck. It didn't last long, but it sent fire racing through her blood. Who would have known that he had such soft, skilled lips? _'About half of the female population of Hogwarts, probably,'_ she thought when he let her go.

"_Don't_," he said firmly, "say that word."

"Why- why did you kiss me?" she asked, wishing she could sound angry and only managing to come off as puzzled.

He shrugged, smirking. "That's how I usually get girls to stop babbling."

She brought her hand back and slapped him across the face. "And that, my dear, is why we are not friends."

"It was a joke," he whined, rubbing his cheek, "I don't know why I kissed you. I just… hate hearing that word. I acted without thinking and I'm sorry, okay?" He paused and seemed to consider something. "Come to think of it… I probably should apologize for the last six years. So… I guess… I'm sorry?" He grinned sheepishly and then was suddenly somber. "I really am, though. I've been a terrible person and I've caused you nothing but trouble. And I'd like to apologize."

She gazed at him skeptically. He seemed sincere, but… It was then that she noticed the faint pink tinge to his cheeks and smiled. "Okay."

"Just 'okay'? What happened to your righteous speech?" he said, grinning.

"Oh, you haven't completely made up for everything and we're still not friends," she said, patting him on the shoulder, "But it's a start. And as far as starts go, I think that was a pretty good one."

"Right…" he said, thinking that the girl should get her head checked, "We should go."

"Go where?" asked Hermione.

"The reason I had gone to your compartment was to remind you of your duties as Head Girl," he said, running a hand through his hair, "But you all looked so surprised and nobody said anything and then it was- awkward."

"So?" she said, not seeing his problem.

"_So_ I don't do awkward," he retorted.

"You'd rather flee with your proverbial tail between your legs," she teased, and laughed when he blushed again, following him back out into the passenger cars.

Comparatively, the remaining time before they reached Hogwarts was rather uneventful. She got into it with Ron _again_ regarding her pen pal and nearly punched him right in his narrow minded head. Ginny joined them for a short while and shamelessly flirted with Harry before he told her- in an incredibly polite and patient manner, of course- to bugger off. Neville stumbled in to tell them in excruciating detail about some new type of plant that can cure excessive flatulence. Luna wandered through aimlessly and warned them against Nargles and Wrackspurts for what felt like the hundredth time. In other words, it was the same as every other train ride. Although Seamus _did_ finally manage to successfully turn water into rum without losing his eyebrows…

As Hermione sat through the sorting later that evening, her mind drifted between the strange encounter with Draco and her ever more mysterious pen pal. She wondered if should tell Romeo about it and ask his opinion on the matter. _'No… it would be too easy for him to figure out my identity. Secrets don't stay secrets in this school for long.'_

"Are you going to eat, Hermione?" asked Ginny, prodding her in the side, "Or perhaps you'd rather continue to gaze wistfully at the potatoes."

She grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. I was thinking," she said, fixing herself a plate.

"About what?" said Lavender, a bit too innocently.

Parvati tittered in that irritating way she was prone to. "With that look on her face it had to have been a boy."

"That's impossible," said Seamus, "Hermione doesn't think about boys."

"She was probably fantasizing about all the essays we'll be assigned this year," joked Ron, making them laugh.

"For your information," she snapped, "I _was_ thinking about a boy."

"Who? Your precious pen pal?" asked Ron moodily.

"No, not that it's any of your business. Somebody else," she replied smirking, "Somebody I know."

"Who?" asked Ginny eagerly, "A boyfriend?"

"It's a secret," she said, smiling furtively, "But he's absolutely _gorgeous_."

She ignored the furious look on Ron's face and dug in to her dinner. He had no right to be angry after telling her that they were just friends and would never be more. That had been an uncomfortable moment… However, she had accepted it and moved on with her life. Now she wished he could do the same.

When she had eaten her fill, she quickly excused herself, wanting to see what the Heads' dorm was like. That was perhaps her favorite Head Girl privilege; her own room. She would have to share a common room and bathroom with the Head Boy- in this case, Draco Malfoy- but it was worth it. She also had a letter to write, but she wasn't about to admit that part of her anticipation was due to that.

She made it to the room specified in her communication with McGonagall and gave the password, waiting patiently for the portrait of Malachi the Melancholy to swing slowly open before hurrying in. The common room was cozy, decorated in soft creams and a deep blue, with a large sofa and two plush armchairs settled in front of a massive fireplace, a small table with four chairs that would be a good place for studying or playing chess, and a row of book shelves stocked with plenty of academic material.

She saw that her new roommate was already seated in of the armchairs with his back to her, reading a book, quite oblivious to his surroundings, and decided to have a bit of fun. She moved quietly forward until she was a scant few inches away, took a deep breath, and bellowed, "Draco!"

He started so violently that the book flew out of his hands, making her snicker. "What the bloody hell was that for?" he exclaimed.

She shrugged, trying to control her laughter. "I just felt like… you should have seen yourself!"

He scowled, bending to retrieve the fallen literature. "You made me lose my place."

She grinned. "You should be more alert. These are troubled times. Or so I've been told."

He couldn't help but match her grin, remembering the insane shopkeeper, Donovan Dieter. Then he frowned as he realized, first, that they had a private joke, and second, that she had just called him by his given name. He didn't comment on it and he wouldn't do the same, in case it had been a one time, slip of the tongue kind of thing, but… it had sounded sort of- nice.

Hermione pretended she couldn't see the wheels turning in his head. "Well, I'm going to go get settled. Have a good night."

He nodded curtly and she walked away, heading for the door engraved with _'HG'._ When it shut behind her, she sighed. It looked exactly like the dorm in Gryffindor Tower, giving her that feeling of home that she had become accustomed to over the years. The only differences were her bed, which was enormous, and the fact that she had her own wardrobe, vanity, and desk. She sat down and penned a response to the last letter she had received. It was carefully worded in some parts and had tried to sound sympathetic without sounding pitying, but she was happy with it. As soon as she closed the envelope it disappeared, surprising her.

"That was strange," she muttered, hoping it had gone where it was supposed to.

Draco started for the second time that evening when an envelope dropped from thin air into his lap. He cursed loudly, wondering if Fate, itself, was determined to give him a heart attack. However, he recognized it at once and stashed it inside his book, retiring to his room. As soon as he had settled at his desk, he opened it and read:

'_Romeo,_

_I'm not too terribly upset that she was absent so long. There were other owls available to me if I had needed to send any important letters and I am sure that she was well taken care of. I __**will**__admit that I was a bit disappointed when your missive did not arrive with its usual haste, though I will admit it to nobody but you. Regardless, I am glad that whatever kept you from your mail seems to have gone. You __**are**__ feeling better, right?_

_It sounds like your parents are awful! And no, I'm nothing like that and I'm glad to hear that you aren't either. I think it's very brave of you to go against their wishes and follow your own dreams and ideals. Not many have that kind of courage, you know. I don't know if I do._

_So you can identify with the characters of "Romeo and Juliet"? I'm sorry if I'm being too forward, but I find that rather sad. You must have led a difficult life to relate to such a tragic tale. I won't ask about it, but I will say this: If you want it badly enough, you will have your happy ending. If you're strong enough to defy the very people who gave you life, you are strong enough to achieve whatever it is that you desire. At least, that is what I believe. _

_I also believe that your aspirations for the future are incredibly noble. To be honest, I am shocked that nobody has thought of the applications of non-magical remedies before. I'm a little jealous that __**I**__didn't think of it! It's absolutely brilliant! Do you have any idea how many people will benefit from that, how many lives you could save, how many families you could rebuild? Now, don't forget me when you become internationally famous._

_My goals seem humble in comparison, but I would like to do research on the magical gene, how it works, why it sometimes recedes and creates squibs, why it sometimes appears in Muggle-born children, and hopefully develop a better way of educating wizards about Muggles. I think a lot of this misguided feeling of superiority has been bred by ignorance. Muggles are highly innovative and just as intelligent as wizards. They have highly developed technology that even the Wizarding World would benefit from. For instance, did you know that they have methods of communicating almost instantly with one another from anywhere around the world? They also have something called television, which is a lot like radio, but it is a much larger box with a screen that displays moving pictures which depict what is happening. And these are only two of their numerous accomplishments! I also plan to campaign for equal rights to be given to werewolves and other human-creature hybrids, as well as better treatment of House Elves and other magical creatures. I abhor prejudice of any kind, but the oppression of hybrids and creatures of alleged "near human intelligence" disgusts me._

_Forgive me for being so long-winded. I get rather excited just thinking about it. Write back soon!_

_Fern'_

He could only stare at the words in front of him with what he was sure was an entirely dumbfounded expression on his face. This girl- whoever she may be- was possibly the most passionate, intelligent, understanding, and dangerously perceptive person he had ever encountered. _'I am glad that whatever kept you from your mail seems to have gone.'_ So she had picked up on that, had she? The fact that she hadn't mentioned illness or injury, but simply said _'whatever kept you from your mail'_ meant that she had formed her own theories and was probably on the right track. He would have been worried about that if it weren't for the sentence which followed it. He could feel her concern in her words, as well as the slightly stern, scolding tone with which she conveyed it. It was strange. Nobody but Severus had expressed concern for him since he was a young boy.

And then… she really seemed to understand how much he had endured over the years, even without being told. She had said he was brave and strong, something he had never thought of himself. _'You will have your happy ending'…_ He wished he could believe that. He wished that he _deserved_ a happy ending. He sighed, forcing his mind in a different direction.

Instead, he focused on the enthusiasm in the paragraphs regarding their futures. Just reading the words infected him with the same zeal. She had so much fervor and an obvious yearning to help those less fortunate than herself. When combined with her apparent intelligence, he didn't think there would be a force on earth that could stop her.

When he got past his initial awe, he set about replying, watching it disappear from his hand as soon as it was sealed.

Hermione was brushing her teeth when the letter appeared. If she hadn't reflexively caught it, the paper would have landed in the sink. She placed it in the pocket of her robe until she had finished in the bathroom. Once she was safely in her room, she pulled it out, lying on her stomach on the bed, and read it.

'_Fern,_

_I'm relieved that you are not angry with me. Artemis was quite happy to stay, as I'm sure you can imagine, with Mercutio to keep her company. I think, if we were to visit the owlery, we would them roosting together, don't you?_

_I am feeling much better, thank you for asking. I would also like to thank you for not trying to press me for information. I find that most people, and especially girls, are far too nosey, always trying to insert themselves in others' business when it doesn't concern them. I hope you don't take offense by that. I'm simply grateful that you are displaying more tact than them. That is all._

_It is strange that you would think me brave for turning my back on my parents. Many I know would deem me cowardly, unappreciative, foolish, weak, but never brave or strong. Even I have trouble seeing myself and my actions as anything besides idiotic and pusillanimous. I feel as though I am proceeding with my life in a manner that is based on the naïve pretense that everything will get better, even as logic is telling me that happy endings do not exist and that happiness is an illusion. You may find that sad, but it is the way I was raised to think and it is a hard habit to break._

_That is not to say that I am not trying. I think my life goals can attest to that. I'm glad that you see what I am trying to do, that you understand how much I want to help. You should, however, know that my reasons are not all as "noble" as you might think. I have selfish reasons, as well. I am certain that your intentions are much more pure than my own._

_Because you, Fern, my darling pen pal, are an amazing person. Your ambitions are nothing short of extraordinary and most definitely not humble. It is a very worthy cause that you are taking up and I would love to help in any way I can. It will take quite a large sum of money, so perhaps I could be a sponsor of some kind. Forget about __**my**__ fame, I will just ride your coattails to the top! And with your intellect and dedication that is precisely where you are heading._

_Now, moving from the future back to the present, how has your day been? If it has been even half as eventful as my own, then I'm sure you must be exhausted._

_Romeo_

_P.S. If we should ever meet, I would be interested in seeing this "television". The concept is intriguing.'_

She smiled, calling her parchment, ink, and quill to her. She also summoned a book to write on, setting the ink on the bedside table before responding and sending it on.

Draco was not caught off guard by the appearance of the letter this time. He calmly picked it up and opened it.

'_Romeo,_

_You are welcome. I try not to pry too much into the personal lives of others. I figure if you want me to know, you will tell me, and I have no right to ask for more than that. I understand that you are not comfortable enough to tell me about certain things, though I hope that one day you will be. _

_I would never call you a coward for following your heart! You __**are**__ brave and strong and I will hex anybody who dares to say otherwise. I do not think that I would like these people you know. They seem to be the same kind of narrow-minded, prejudiced, arrogant people I've been fighting against since I arrived at this school six years ago. You really should surround yourself with people who are more worthy of your company. I assure you that they are not._

_I would be glad to have you as a sponsor. Merlin knows I'm going to need all the help that I can get. I'm afraid my family isn't as well off as some. We are not impoverished by any means, simply your average working-class people. So, you see, I am not nearly as amazing as you say. I am actually an entirely average person. A bit more clever than most, but altogether ordinary. Although I would be more than happy to show you television and more if you were interested._

_My day has been odd. Not exactly eventful, but no less exhausting I'm sure. People seem to be doing a lot of highly unexpected things around me lately. Things that do not fit in with the impression they have given me in the past. And, on top of that, I've been fighting with a good friend of mine. He is somebody who I once had romantic feelings for, but early this summer he told me, none too politely, that we are "just friends". However, when I talk about other guys, he becomes irrationally angry with me. I tell you this because you are also male and I am hoping that you might offer some insight into this infuriating behavior. Please?_

_Fern'_

Draco scrawled a reply, feeling instant embarrassment as soon as it left his fingers. Why, oh why, had he written that?

'_Fern, _

_Six years ago, eh? That would make you a seventh year. Thank you for narrowing it down for me. Don't worry. I believe in a level playing field, so I'll tell you that I, too, am in my final year. And I am trying to form friendships with a better class of people, but it is more difficult than you can imagine. I am not the easiest person to get along with. Hence why I have only one __**true**__ friend. Of course, I can be quite charming when I need to be._

_I have a couple pieces of advice to give you. First of all, do not let the past dictate your opinions of people in the present. Perhaps these people are now showing their true colors. Perhaps they have changed. I do not know the whole story- and I won't ask- but it sounds as though these are the most plausible explanations. Naturally there is a chance that they may be deceiving you, but you should follow your instincts in any case._

_Secondly, in regards to your friend, you need to confront him. I have, personally, never behaved in such a way, but I have seen it many times. It is the "I don't want her, but I don't want anybody else to have her either" mentality. He either harboring feelings for you and regretting his rejection, or he is very, very selfish. Some guys like to entertain the idea that they are quite a catch and completely irreplaceable, therefore girls need to spend their lives alone and miserable, pining after them until their dying breath. So, when a girl they have turned down shows any interest in another guy, they go on the defensive. Usually they point out flaws in the "rival male", making the girl lose interest. On occasion, though, I have seen it escalate to the point when he begins putting the girl down, crushing her confidence little by little until she thinks herself so undesirable that no longer even approaches somebody of the opposite gender. _

_If it ever reaches that point with this friend of yours, you must promise to tell me. I'm not sure what I could do, but I'm sure I would think of something. If you do not confront him, it will only get worse. It is likely that he does not see anything wrong with his behavior. Until somebody metaphorically shoves it in his face, he will continue. _

_Just so you are aware, this guy sounds like a real git. But if he was stupid enough to reject you, then it is his loss and some incredibly lucky fellow's gain. Keep that in mind._

_Romeo'_

Hermione blushed brilliantly. Well! Charming, indeed… She wrote a simple reply, barely able to keep her eyes open, and turned the lights out, settling under the covers.

Draco was just about to turn in when he received her response.

'_Romeo,_

_I cannot believe I told you that! I feel like such a dolt, now. But thank you for "leveling the playing field". I am sure that you are not as disagreeable as you claim. You seem perfectly wonderful to me. I'm happy to hear that you __**do**__ have at least one friend. This whole time I've been worried that you didn't have anybody you could count on._

_Thank you for your advice. It was very good, much better than any that my friends would have offered. They're much too close to the situation to be of any help, I think. I don't believe that it will ever reach that point- my friend, while hopelessly dense, is not a mean-spirited person- however, if it does, I promise to tell you. You can write a strongly worded letter expressing your outrage. I will even lend him my dictionary so that he can understand it._

_Now, as I am near falling asleep on this paper, I will bid you goodnight, Romeo._

_Fern'_

Hermione was on the verge of slumber when something hit her face. She sat up, relighting her room, and gazed in confusion at the envelope on her pillow. Opening it, she found a small piece of expensive looking stationary with a simple reply in large, elaborate letters.

'_Sweet dreams, my Fern.'_

That night, Hermione Granger fell asleep with a smile on her face.

~III~

There! Chapter three done! Are you happy? Five letters in that chapter! I'm rather pleased with how that played out… Now review! Review and feed my inspiration!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own it and I make no profit.

Author's Note: The long awaited chapter four has arrived! I'm really happy with all of the positive feedback I've gotten! You guys are the BEST!

~IV~

Hermione woke late the next day and hurriedly threw on her robes, practically running to the Great Hall. She took a seat between Ginny and Neville, grabbing a piece of toast. "Good morning," she said, taking a bite.

"Morning," said Harry, grinning, "Cutting it a little close, aren't we?"

"Stow it," she said, "I was up late last night."

"Were you writing letters to your mystery boy?" asked Ron scathingly.

"Maybe… what's it to you?" she retorted.

"I was just wondering," he snapped.

"Well, I know what else you're wondering and I can safely say that he does not support Voldemort," she stated, "I won't tell you how I know and I won't tell you anything else, but you definitely don't have to worry about that."

Ron opened his mouth to say something- most likely something rude- but Harry silenced him with an elbow to the ribs. "Just leave it alone, will you?"

He sighed, nodding. "Sorry, 'Mione. I don't mean to be a prat. I just don't like the idea of some bloke we don't even know getting too close to you."

She smiled softly. _'There's the Ron I know…'_ "I appreciate that, but I assure you, I'm being careful. It's not as though I've told him my life's story, you know."

"Good," he said, then grinned mischievously, "It wouldn't do to run about telling strange guys that you're Harry Potter's best friend. Could be hazardous to your health."

She laughed. "Maybe we should find safer friends."

"Too true. Maybe a nice Hufflepuff- ow! We're only joking, Harry!" exclaimed Ron, clutching his abused ribcage.

Harry grinned at them. "I'm certainly glad that you can laugh in the face of your own mortality, because otherwise you'd have gone mad ages ago."

"Speaking of going mad… have a look at _that_," said Ron, pointing to the doorway.

Hermione turned in her seat and was shocked to see Draco Malfoy entering the room, a bright smile lighting his face. Not a smirk or a smug grin, but a genuine smile. And, if she wasn't mistaken, there seemed to be a jaunty bounce to his step. He was damn near _skipping_ to the Slytherin table! What on earth had gotten into him?

"Something's sure put him in a good mood," said Harry as though this was a normal occurrence.

Ron shrugged, going back to his breakfast. "Maybe he had a good shag last night."

"Ronald Weasley!" exclaimed Hermione, blushing, "There are children at this table!"

"Not close enough to hear me," he defended.

She shook her head. "I've half a mind to box your ears myself, simply because your mother isn't here to do so."

Ron winced at the mention of his mother. "Okay! Sorry…"

Ginny snickered. "You'll make a good mum one day, Hermione."

"Merlin knows I've gotten enough practice with these two around," she said, ignoring their protests.

The day seemed to pass at a snail's pace for her. They were surprised to see Remus back at Defense Against the Dark Arts and Tonks teaching Transfiguration, seeing as neither had been at the feast the previous night. Apparently they'd had last minute Order business that kept them held up. She'd spent lunch in the library, researching some advanced charms independently. Snape was as… Snape-ish as ever. Aside from the appearance of Remus and Tonks- and a minor incident in Care of Magical Creatures involving a juvenile kneazle and a bucket of water- it was a rather boring day.

"I thought that would never end!" said Ron, nearly throwing himself into the hallway after the last class of the day, Potions.

"Honestly, Ron… it's not a form of medieval torture. It's _class_," stated Hermione, "And it is necessary if you ever hope to become an auror."

He muttered something unintelligibly and she hit him. "Ow! What the hell?"

"I don't know what you said, but I'm sure you deserved that," she replied.

Harry laughed. "Just think of it this way: after this year, you never have to see Snape again."

"Well… that does sound nice," said Ron, grinning, "And having Remus and Tonks around will sure make things more interesting."

"That's the spirit!" said Harry, clapping him on the back.

They ran into Ginny and Neville as they emerged from the dungeons. "Where are you guys headed?" asked Ginny.

"Thought we'd spend some time by the lake," said Harry, "Maybe visit Hagrid for a bit."

"Mind if we come along?" said Neville.

He shrugged. "Course not."

"I'm afraid I won't be joining you," said Hermione, smiling apologetically, "I still have to work on a study schedule if you lot have any hope of passing your N.E.W.T. exams."

"Really, Hermione?" whined Ron, "It's the first day!"

"We'll start with review, naturally," she said, "They'll be covering everything we've learned over the years, you know. And they _are_ the most important tests we'll ever take. We need to be as prepared as possible."

Neville nodded. "I agree with Hermione. I'm just grateful to have a friend like her to help me, or I'd never graduate."

"See? At least somebody appreciates me," she said, smiling at him, "Now I've really got to go. I've only got a few hours before dinner and I want to finish with the first month tonight. Ginny, you should stop by when you guys are done doing… whatever it is that you'll be doing if there's time. If not, I'll see you in the Great Hall."

"I'll stop by," said Ginny, clearly excited about whatever her friend had to tell her.

Hermione left them and headed up to her dorm at a brisk pace. She hadn't really lied to them… She did want to start on the study schedule. She just also happened to want to write a letter. There was no harm in that.

"Really, Draco?" said Blaise, giving the blonde a skeptical look, "You'd rather read some book about _Muggles_ than go flying with me?"

"Keep your voice down!" hissed Draco, looking around and sighing in relief when he saw that nobody was paying them any attention, "And _yes_. It is a very interesting book. It's all about "science" and it's actually quite educational. I think they may know more about the world than _us_, Blaise…"

"Don't let Lucius catch you saying stuff like that. You know he thinks they're _inferior_," said Blaise.

"They're not, though," said Draco as they rounded the corner, "They've figured out how to harness energy using wind, water, and even the sun. They call it eel-eck-tri-city and they use it to light their houses and streets, to run all of their household appliances… everything. For pity's sake, Blaise, they can fly! _Without magic_! I'm going to read about something called the 'industrial revolution' and 'combustion engine' next. And chemistry, which seems a lot like potions-"

"Alright! I get it!" said Blaise, chuckling, "Merlin's beard, mate. Are they really that smart? That advanced?"

He nodded. "Fern said they have moving pictures in boxes, but with sound. I asked the Muggle Studies professor about it and she said it's like watching a play, only it's not live and you can watch it as many times as you want and it's always the same."

"Ah… _Fern_. She must be why you're so enthusiastic about all of this," said Blaise knowingly.

"I'll have you know that I was interested long before I started writing to Fern," he replied haughtily.

"Whatever. If you'd rather read, then I guess I'll just find somebody else to fly with," said Blaise, mock-sulking.

Draco smirked at him. "I'm glad you understand. See you later."

He hurried through the corridors, hoping that Fern would write to him soon. They really needed to figure out a more convenient way of communicating. He reached the entrance to the common room just as Hermione was giving the password. She smiled at him. "Hello, Draco."

He was taken aback by her casual, friendly greeting. "What happened to 'Malfoy'?"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "I wonder…"

He wanted to ask what she meant by that, but she had already stepped through the portrait hole and was making her way to her room. He sighed, sitting heavily on the sofa and summoning his book. Hermione Granger… She was truly a strange creature. If Fern wanted to talk about people doing unexpected things, perhaps he should tell her about the odd girl. He scoffed. _That_ wouldn't make it obvious or anything.

He discarded the book when he realized he'd read the same sentence four times. It was their fault. Between Granger and Fern it would be a miracle if he passed the seventh year! Wait… if he was 'Draco' now, should he start calling her 'Hermione'? It seemed only fair. And it sounded much better than 'Granger'. What an unappealing surname. Perhaps he should try it out once, just to gauge her reaction.

He jumped when a letter suddenly fell into his lap. _'This is getting old…'_ He retreated to his room where he could read without fear of being interrupted. Or caught.

'_Romeo,_

_You know, it still feels bizarre to write that name. How many people have actually written to somebody named "Romeo", do you think? I may be the only one with that distinct pleasure. Unless you have numerous other female pen pals that you use that particular ploy on. In which case, I must warn you that I am the jealous type. _

_Anyway, how was your first day of classes? Mine was abysmally boring. I'm glad that Professor Lupin has returned, though. He was the best Defense teacher we ever had. I mean no offense to Professor Snape, of course, but the man belongs with Potions. Anyone could see that. I may not e his biggest fan, but I will admit that he is brilliant behind a cauldron. And I firmly believe that there is more to him than meets the eye. _

_In other news, my friend- the one I've been fighting with- apologized to me at breakfast this morning. For being a "prat", he said. I didn't even have to confront him. Although somebody did give him a nice elbow in the side. Do you think he realizes that he's been acting like a moron or was he just saying that? I really hope he was as sincere as he sounded. _

_My friends think I'm studying right now. Can you believe we'll be taking our N.E.W.T.s this year? It feels like just yesterday that I was a first year, nervously waiting for my name to be called at the sorting. Now we're getting ready to graduate. And then we won't be coming back. How sad to think that soon we'll be leaving this place. It's been like a second home to me for so long that it's hard to imagine life outside these walls._

_And now I've gone and depressed myself. I do hope you have some entertaining news for me. I'm in need of a good laugh. _

_Fern'_

He chuckled, wondering how one person can display such a wide range of emotions in a letter.

Hermione sighed, unable to focus on anything but the gnawing anticipation in her stomach. When had she become so impatient? She was probably the only weird one, rushing to her room straight after classes to write a blasted letter! She groaned in frustration, leaning back in the chair, and gave a small scream when she toppled backwards.

"Of all the bloody-!"

There was a knock on the door that led to the bathroom just as an envelope landed next to her. "Are you okay?" called Draco from the other side, "I heard a scream."

"I'm fine. I just fell off my chair," she replied, righting herself and returning to her seat.

"Well, try not to hurt yourself, Clumsy," said Draco, and she could hear amusement in his voice.

She tried not to smile as she cursed him, but it was a futile effort. He had been worried about her… She shook her head as she began to read.

'_Fern,_

_I do hope that I am not coming between you and your friends. That simply won't do. We should make Rule Number Four now, I suppose, and vow that we will not allow this to interfere with our friendships. Although I must admit that I would like very much to spend all of my free time writing to you. I am not trying to sound like a stalker or anything, but I find our communication very soothing. It is nice to talk to somebody who does not know my name and will not judge me. It is something that I have not experienced until now and I would hate to lose it. And, of course, the mystery of it all is quite alluring, as well._

_As for my day, I am afraid it was nothing special. I agree with you on the subject of Professor Lupin. He does seem to be the best person for the job. It was foolish of them to let him go in the first place. Lycanthropy or no, he is a very good teacher and incredibly knowledgeable, not to mention a good man who I doubt would ever hurt a student or anybody without provocation._

_I __**am**__ surprised that you would speak that way of Professor Snape. People do not often have anything good to say about him, though I can't say that I blame them. He can be a right bastard when vexed and he takes his potions very seriously. I, too, believe that he is basically a good person, if a bit rough around the edges, but I have met few who share my sentiment. You intrigue me more and more with each correspondence, Fern. I already find myself wishing to meet you so that I may know the face of the one who confounds me so._

_Your friend is an even greater puzzle. He may have been sincere in his apology, but continue behaving like an idiot. You should be wary and if he persists, you must confront him. I cannot stress this enough. It is possible that he was not apologizing for the full scope of his actions. I cannot be sure, as I was not present, but it __**is**__ possible._

_Now, do not fret so much about leaving this place. It is still a ways off. Besides, it is not supposed to be "depressing". Sad, perhaps, but it is always sad to leave something as beloved as Hogwarts. However, you should not think of graduation as an end. Rather, it is a beginning, the beginning of a grand adventure in which you will experience many new and exciting things, and therefore a happy time. That, I think, is what Dumbledore would tell us, were he here right now._

_Romeo' _

Hermione had to wipe vigorously at her eyes to avoid spilling tears on the parchment and blurring those wonderful words. How she wished she could show her friends… If Harry and Ron saw this, she knew that they would understand why she enjoyed writing to Romeo. Even without really knowing her, he seemed to know exactly what to say to lift her spirits.

She gently placed the missive in the desk drawer she kept the others locked in, caressing it with a fingertip briefly before sitting back with a sigh. She had found a good friend in her pen pal.

Draco was pacing- _pacing!_- and feeling more and more uneasy with each pass. He shouldn't have mentioned Dumbledore. He should not have said anything about him. He had just begun to feel better about the events that had occurred mere months ago. Now that guilt swept through him, as fresh and painful as it had ever been. It felt dirty to write the name, as though he was sullying the man's memory by even _thinking_ about him.

Just as he thought he would go mad from it, his bedroom door opened and Blaise stepped in.

"Blaise? How did you get in here?" said Draco, surprised to see his friend.

"_You_ gave me the password, remember?" the boy replied, grinning, "So how goes the reading?"

Draco scowled at him. "How goes the flying?"

"There was already a group of Ravenclaws playing a game," said Blaise, shrugging, "If you don't mind my asking, why are you pacing about like a lunatic?"

When Draco opened his mouth to reply, he was interrupted by the soft "pop" that announced the arrival of his reply.

Blaise jumped back as it fell to the floor, staring with wide eyes when Draco bent to retrieve it. "Don't _touch _it!" he hissed, "It could be cursed!"

"Doubtful," said Draco, picking it up and smirking at him, "It's from Fern."

Blaise relaxed, releasing his breath in a long sigh, though he continued to eye the thing as if it might explode at any moment. "How does it just- appear like that?"

"I don't know. But they didn't do it until we got to Hogwarts- we had to send them using owls- so I think it's McGonagall's doing," replied Draco, opening it, "It's a clever bit of magic, whatever it is."

"Can I read it?" asked Blaise hopefully.

"No," said Draco succinctly, reading:

'_Romeo,_

_First, I would like to thank you for making me cry.'_

He paused at this, horrified and angry with himself. He had wanted to cheer her up, not make her _cry_! He moved on, hoping that she would not tell him goodbye.

'_Secondly, I would like to reassure you that they were good tears.'_

He scoffed even as his face split into a grin. What a way to open a letter…

'_Your words were just what I needed to hear. And you are right. That is precisely what he would have said. It sounds like you miss him very much. But I suppose most that knew him do. His death was a great loss, one that shook the very core of this school. I do not think, though, that he would want us to spend our time lamenting his death. Knowing Dumbledore, he would tell us to stop sitting around feeling sorry and start enjoying our lives. So that is what I have been trying to do, what you should do, as well.'_

He _had_ to pause now, and turn his back to his friend so that he would not see the moisture in his eyes. It was a nice thought, certainly. Could she still say that if she knew his true identity? He didn't think so.

'_On a lighter note, you do not have to worry about my friends. I couldn't forget them if I tried, trust me. If I get too absorbed in something they will simply drag me out of whatever hole I'm hiding in and force me into the daylight. And yes. I __**do**__ spend a lot of time hiding in holes.'_

He laughed aloud at this, not caring if Blaise thought him crazy.

'_I am just as glad to have you to talk to. Even if you do not realize, you are helping me tremendously with my friend. And it __**is**__nice to be able to just talk like this. About my worries and fears, my problems, and my dreams. I know __**you**__ won't look at me like I'm half-mad and tell me that it is impossible for a person to feel so much all at once. Mostly because one cannot "look" through a letter. Although I do not think you would if you could. You are much too kind._

_I think that if we have met- and we must have at least once, with the both of us being in our seventh year- I must have liked you very much. Or are you actually shy in person? I am going positively nutters trying to figure out who you may be. I don't think I know __**anybody**__ like you, so perhaps we only met in passing. It is a shame, isn't it? But it is for the better, I suppose. I like the mystery, too. _

_Now why should you feel surprised that I would say that about Professor Snape? I have proven many times that I am a rather unorthodox witch. I believe that if more people could get past his snarky exterior, they would see what I see. Unfortunately, there are few who __**can**__ look past appearances and set aside prejudice and misleading impressions to truly get to know a person. It is ridiculous how much we all rely on rumors and the look of a person, passing judgment before we have even spoken with them._

_Even at Hogwarts, we are conditioned to judge our peers based on their house. Slytherins are all evil and disloyal. Hufflepuffs are emotional and stupid. Gryffindors are headstrong and act without thinking. Ravenclaws are all uptight bookworms. Pathetic. And entirely untrue. Occasionally you do find a few who fit into that tidy little box, but we are as diverse amongst our houses as we are anywhere else. _

_I'm sorry. I began ranting a bit toward the end. I will stop now and wait impatiently for your response._

_Fern'_

He grinned as he placed the letter on his desk. He liked her rants. They were… enlightening. If she really felt that way- and he believed she did- then maybe she _would_ accept him. Eventually. This pen pal thing was far too much fun to give it up just yet.

"I'd like to meet this girl," said Blaise from his seat at the foot of the bed, "If she can make you laugh and smile like that, then she is definitely worth looking in to."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Hands off, Blaise."

The boy had the gall to laugh at him. "I'm not going to steal her away in the night and eat her up while you're not looking. I just think she must be very- interesting."

"I know you too well to believe that," said Draco coolly, "I mean it. Stay away from her, you notorious rake."

"Hello pot, meet kettle," said Blaise smartly.

"I am _not_ a rake," said Draco defensively.

"That is not what many sixth and seventh year girls would say," stated Blaise matter-of-factly, "Besides, you don't even know this girl. One or both of us may have already bedded her."

"She's not that kind of girl," growled Draco, not sure why rage had suddenly set his blood to boiling.

"How can you be sure?" asked Blaise.

"I just _know_, okay?" he snapped, "Did you only come here to call her character into question?"

"Certainly not," said Blaise, smirking, "I also came to call _your_ character into question."

The corners of his mouth twitched as he suppressed a smile. "You are an insufferable ass."

"And you are an irascible prick," said Blaise in an entirely friendly manner, "Are we done pointing out the obvious?"

"I suppose so," said Draco, grinning at his long-time friend, the one person he could sit and joke with like this.

"Are you sure I can't read it?" said Blaise.

"I'm sure," said Draco, "We promised each other confidentiality. That's Rule Number Two."

"You have _rules_ about being pen pals?" said Blaise laughingly, "You sure are a strange one."

"If we ever do meet, there are certain things that we would prefer others didn't know," he replied simply as he started in on his reply, "Now entertain yourself for a few moments, will you?"

Hermione was glad to see Ginny when she arrived. Perhaps the girl could distract her long enough for her to relax a bit. She couldn't help but wonder if she had said too much in her last letter. The general opinion of the student body regarding Slytherin house was not a positive one. Would she lose her pen pal by defending them? He didn't seem like a prejudiced person, but… She shook herself mentally. If he stopped writing her because of that, then he wasn't somebody with whom she wanted to correspond anyway.

"Are you okay, Hermione?" asked Ginny, "You seem a little out of it."

The words came before she could stop them. "I lied about working on the study schedule. I've been writing to Romeo."

"_Romeo_? Is that actually what he's calling himself?" said Ginny, wrinkling her nose.

"Yes, but…" She chewed her lip. "You aren't angry?"

Ginny shrugged. "We figured that's what you were doing. Ron had a bit of a fit, but that's just Ron."

Hermione grinned at her. "That really is the only way to describe him."

"So…" said Ginny, smiling innocently, "Any chance I can read some of his letters?"

"Absolutely not," she replied, "I promised him I wouldn't tell anybody what he talks about. Completely confidential, I'm afraid."

"Oh come on!" the girl whined, "Give me _something_!"

She laughed. "Well, what do you want to know? Ask your questions and I will answer them if I can."

"I don't know what to ask," said Ginny, positively bouncing with delight, "Just tell me whatever you think is safe to say."

"I can tell you that he's not nearly as narcissistic as the name 'Romeo' suggests. He's intelligent and sweet and he makes me laugh," she explained, smiling softly, "We seem to see things in a similar way ad have common views on many subjects. He is thoughtful and understanding and not like anybody I've ever met."

Ginny smirked knowingly. "It sounds like somebody has a crush."

She felt heat rise in her cheeks. "That's impossible. I don't even know him."

"You probably know more about him than you think," said Ginny, "You _probably_ know more about him than you do most others."

"And _you_ are probably right," she said, smiling brightly, "But not about the crush. We've been writing each other for five days."

"Deny it all you want," stated Ginny, "But I know infatuation when I see it."

Before Hermione could form a response, an envelope landed at her feet. She bent to pick it up, ignoring Ginny's startled gasp. "It's just Romeo. I think Professor McGonagall charmed the envelope to act as a sort of Portkey within the castle. Rather clever of her, don't you think? Otherwise there would be owls all over the place."

Ginny smirked when the girl immediately began reading.

'_Fern,_

_I would like to thank you for making me feel unnecessary guilt. Honestly, you really know how to make a fellow worry. But I am glad that they were good tears. Whatever that means. I suppose I do miss the crazy old coot. We were never particularly close, but he was a good man. The kind of man who believed in second chances. I used to think it was folly, that people don't change, but I see now that his faith and ability to see the good in nearly everyone were his greatest strengths. _

_If more people could be like Albus Dumbledore, the world would be an infinitely better place._

_It sounds like you have good friends. I'm glad. It is unfortunate that you spend so much time in holes. I think I may have to end our correspondence now. I am only joking, of course. I wouldn't stop even if you turned out into some horrible mole creature._

_I'm sure that when we met, you disliked me. As I said, I am not easy to get along with. Most think I am arrogant and vain. And I can be somewhat of a bully. I hope you do not think badly of me for it. I am trying to change, but until I graduate I must continue to uphold the image that my parents expect of me. For the most part, anyway. _

_I find that I like your ranting very much. It is enlightening. And I agree. Too many of us hold prejudice toward other houses. Especially Slytherin. Are we to believe that because every dark witch and wizard has come from Slytherin, all Slytherins are inherently dark? I don't thinks so. Maybe if we treated them with a bit more kindness, less would turn away from the light. _

_I will leave you with that, because I, too, abandoned my friend and I think they may be upset with me. I hope we can continue this later._

_Romeo'_

Hermione grinned, setting the letter in the drawer and locking it. She turned to Ginny, who was smirking knowingly. "Wipe that look off your face. It's _not_ a crush."

"It takes somebody awfully special to make a girl smile like that, Hermione," the girl stated resolutely, "You must feel something for him."

She rolled her eyes. "I think you're reading too many romance novels, Gin. Your brain has gone to mush."

"My brain is just fine and so are my eyes. Deny it all you want, but I know you better than that," said Ginny.

She sighed. There was no way she would win this argument. "Let's head to the Great Hall before Ron eats our place settings, as well."

Draco turned back to Blaise after sending the letter and smirked. "There, all done. Happy now?"

"Ecstatic, thank you," said Blaise cheerfully, "Only way it could be better is if we actually had time to do anything. As it is, dinner is about to start."

"It's not my fault that you came up here to bother me," said Draco haughtily, "Now let's go eat. I'm starving."

~IV~

End of Chapter Four! I hope you enjoyed it! Next chapter coming soon!


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